One is the Loneliest Number You Can Ever Do
1
Yesterday, I did something unprecedented in my five-year tenure as Artistic Director for The Elite Theatre Company. I re-directed part of the second act of our next production, Wrong Turn at Lungfish, which was supposed to open last Friday but didn't. In addition to finding plays and directors, skillfully matching them up, and putting a season of five plays together each year, my most important job as Artistic Director is to work with the directors. I help them reach their "vision" of their play. During the last two weeks, I attend rehearsals and privately (usually through e-mail) send my notes, criticisms and, occasionally, demands to the director. I don't interfere in the director's process by working with his actors or personally giving the actors notes during rehearsals. I "direct" the director, you might say, in a mentoring way.
Steve, the director, has directed nearly 30 plays. On top of that, he's a close friend and associate. I value his friendship and talent as a director. But he was at the helm of the ship and didn't see the rocks coming. Maybe he was distracted by his own experience. I don't know. But I won't allow a show to open if it's not ready. There were serious problems with the second act and actors were struggling with lines to the point of their considering institutionalization.
Last Tuesday, my co-producer (I'm also producing the show), who happens to be playing the lead in the play and was the actor seeking therapy, wanted to delay the show a week. Now keep in mind that this means a loss of revenue for the theater and it's embarrassing to a theater company to have to call all those folks with reservations and tell them the play will have a delayed opening. I've only had to do it one other time. Normally, my answer to him would have been "absolutely not." But I already had considered delaying the opening because of the problems with the second act, so I agreed with my co-producer, and we pushed the opening to this Friday.
So I'm in the theater yesterday, after Steve assured me that all my second-act concerns were taken care of, and we arrive at Act Two. And I see what I saw the week before. The emotional value of the play is still too thin and the character arcs (that's theaterese for character growth) have flat-lined. So when they finished the second act and were all coming off the stage, I said, "We're not done." I turned to Steve and said, "You'd like for me to re-work a couple of scenes. Wouldn't you." He just stared back at me. For him, it would be a bit embarrassing to have me step in and direct his play. But I had given him every opportunity to transform his play to one that at least closely resembled excellence. Mediocrity was the 800-pound gorilla on the stage.
My style of directing is in-the-actors'-faces and challenging them to think and feel and discover. They weren't ready for me. But when I got done, they were inspired, focused and ready to pursue excellence in their performances. They understood what to think and feel. I gave them a new perspective.
And that's what a good editor does to my writing. (Don't you love those one-sentence segues that begin with "And"?)
There comes a time in a piece of writing--a novel, short story, play, article--where I need a new perspective. I have friends who are good writers. Not all of them are great writers or even published writers, but they recognize good writing when they read it. I think that's what I value most in giving my writing to someone to read before it's ready for publication: an experienced eye. "Ready for publication" doesn't mean it will get published. It means it's ready to send to publishers for consideration.
I used to write my short stories and send them out, over and over and over. And I got rejected, over and over and over. I hadn't received any editorial advice, so, in hindsight, it's no wonder. Recently, I published some of my short stories here at The American Writer. During this period of re-writing them, I discovered a simple fact: none of them were ready for publication. So back fifteen years ago when I wrote them, I was actually reading them and concluding they were wonderful. While re-writing them, I was full of wonder at how I could have possibly believed they were even close to being wonderful. They were amateurish, sloppy, and lacked literary maturity.
I gave my work in progress, my novel, The Plunge, to my friend and writer, Lynn Marzulli. He read my 140,000-word novel twice and issued several pages of typed notes for each chapter. During my re-writing of the book, I considered his advice. Not always did I take his advice, but I had a perspective to consider that I wouldn't have had if I'd just gone alone at it. My book is so much better and it's due to Lynn's good eye for storytelling and structure. Over the years, I've participated in novel critique groups and developed relationships and respect for writers I can trust with my work.
But I've given my writing to the wrong people in the past. Family rarely have sound advice. If I want encouragement, I give something to my wife or my mother. But they are not writers. If I want only feedback about the story--was it interesting, scary, sexy, exciting--whatever--I might give it to my wife or one of my brothers. But my wife of 35 years generally has more than simple feedback. I listen to all of her advice; I know better not to. But I take into consideration (God love her) that her favorite saying is "There's always light at the end of the rainbow," and mentally ignore most of it.
I've not yet hired a real editor, but I know that if you can afford one, they can be most beneficial to a completed work. I wouldn't consider sending something to a professional editor--one I'm paying $75 a hour--until I've worked that sucker to the bone with my own editing.
One is the loneliest number when we type THE END. But I don't have to feel alone. I can send my writing to one of five or six writers, who respect me enough not only to read my writing but tell me the damn truth.
I love you, Steve. I really do. I love you enough to tell you the truth about your play.
Yesterday, I did something unprecedented in my five-year tenure as Artistic Director for The Elite Theatre Company. I re-directed part of the second act of our next production, Wrong Turn at Lungfish, which was supposed to open last Friday but didn't. In addition to finding plays and directors, skillfully matching them up, and putting a season of five plays together each year, my most important job as Artistic Director is to work with the directors. I help them reach their "vision" of their play. During the last two weeks, I attend rehearsals and privately (usually through e-mail) send my notes, criticisms and, occasionally, demands to the director. I don't interfere in the director's process by working with his actors or personally giving the actors notes during rehearsals. I "direct" the director, you might say, in a mentoring way.
Steve, the director, has directed nearly 30 plays. On top of that, he's a close friend and associate. I value his friendship and talent as a director. But he was at the helm of the ship and didn't see the rocks coming. Maybe he was distracted by his own experience. I don't know. But I won't allow a show to open if it's not ready. There were serious problems with the second act and actors were struggling with lines to the point of their considering institutionalization.
Last Tuesday, my co-producer (I'm also producing the show), who happens to be playing the lead in the play and was the actor seeking therapy, wanted to delay the show a week. Now keep in mind that this means a loss of revenue for the theater and it's embarrassing to a theater company to have to call all those folks with reservations and tell them the play will have a delayed opening. I've only had to do it one other time. Normally, my answer to him would have been "absolutely not." But I already had considered delaying the opening because of the problems with the second act, so I agreed with my co-producer, and we pushed the opening to this Friday.
So I'm in the theater yesterday, after Steve assured me that all my second-act concerns were taken care of, and we arrive at Act Two. And I see what I saw the week before. The emotional value of the play is still too thin and the character arcs (that's theaterese for character growth) have flat-lined. So when they finished the second act and were all coming off the stage, I said, "We're not done." I turned to Steve and said, "You'd like for me to re-work a couple of scenes. Wouldn't you." He just stared back at me. For him, it would be a bit embarrassing to have me step in and direct his play. But I had given him every opportunity to transform his play to one that at least closely resembled excellence. Mediocrity was the 800-pound gorilla on the stage.
My style of directing is in-the-actors'-faces and challenging them to think and feel and discover. They weren't ready for me. But when I got done, they were inspired, focused and ready to pursue excellence in their performances. They understood what to think and feel. I gave them a new perspective.
And that's what a good editor does to my writing. (Don't you love those one-sentence segues that begin with "And"?)
There comes a time in a piece of writing--a novel, short story, play, article--where I need a new perspective. I have friends who are good writers. Not all of them are great writers or even published writers, but they recognize good writing when they read it. I think that's what I value most in giving my writing to someone to read before it's ready for publication: an experienced eye. "Ready for publication" doesn't mean it will get published. It means it's ready to send to publishers for consideration.
I used to write my short stories and send them out, over and over and over. And I got rejected, over and over and over. I hadn't received any editorial advice, so, in hindsight, it's no wonder. Recently, I published some of my short stories here at The American Writer. During this period of re-writing them, I discovered a simple fact: none of them were ready for publication. So back fifteen years ago when I wrote them, I was actually reading them and concluding they were wonderful. While re-writing them, I was full of wonder at how I could have possibly believed they were even close to being wonderful. They were amateurish, sloppy, and lacked literary maturity.
I gave my work in progress, my novel, The Plunge, to my friend and writer, Lynn Marzulli. He read my 140,000-word novel twice and issued several pages of typed notes for each chapter. During my re-writing of the book, I considered his advice. Not always did I take his advice, but I had a perspective to consider that I wouldn't have had if I'd just gone alone at it. My book is so much better and it's due to Lynn's good eye for storytelling and structure. Over the years, I've participated in novel critique groups and developed relationships and respect for writers I can trust with my work.
But I've given my writing to the wrong people in the past. Family rarely have sound advice. If I want encouragement, I give something to my wife or my mother. But they are not writers. If I want only feedback about the story--was it interesting, scary, sexy, exciting--whatever--I might give it to my wife or one of my brothers. But my wife of 35 years generally has more than simple feedback. I listen to all of her advice; I know better not to. But I take into consideration (God love her) that her favorite saying is "There's always light at the end of the rainbow," and mentally ignore most of it.
I've not yet hired a real editor, but I know that if you can afford one, they can be most beneficial to a completed work. I wouldn't consider sending something to a professional editor--one I'm paying $75 a hour--until I've worked that sucker to the bone with my own editing.
One is the loneliest number when we type THE END. But I don't have to feel alone. I can send my writing to one of five or six writers, who respect me enough not only to read my writing but tell me the damn truth.
I love you, Steve. I really do. I love you enough to tell you the truth about your play.
Posted by Tom Eubanks at 6/23/2010 8:31 AM 
Categories: Everyone's a Critic, On Writing
Tags: Working It Ends Justify Vital Resource
Categories: Everyone's a Critic, On Writing
Tags: Working It Ends Justify Vital Resource
Hey it's your brother! Yeah your right, I do always love your writing but I am biased. You also know that my favorite work of literary work is "Hot VWs Magazine", right? nuf said.
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It's comments like this that make you my favorite brother.
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Pretty passionate post.
I do understand.
I spent years "in the pits" playing for musicals.
The best directors were also the most maddening,in your face, and passionate.
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I appreciate your using the word "passionate," since, after I read my piece, I thought, "Some folks might think I'm just a jerk."
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Tom, this is one of the most truthful things I've read in a long, long time. Abso-friggin-lutley. I managed a college magazine for four years, and that constant war of hurting people's feelings and telling the truth was unreal. And I had to be careful with students . . . I didn't want to totally crush some budding artist, which seemed to be everywhere. Now I've gotten very, very soft compared to those days, but I've also lost my way as far as editing. I doubt my own judgement concerning other people's work. I read "The Road" and wouldn't have published that piece of crap in a million years, but there it is -- huge best seller and a movie. So I doubt my own judgement. I doubt my own advice. I just read your chapter from "The Plunge" and thoroughly enjoyed the scene, but if pressed for any truthful advice, the most I could say was "perhaps too detailed in some spots," and I would doubt that advice, because I've become an impatient reader, and if I really have time to sit down and enjoy it (like today), then I like the added detail. So I have become a crappy editor. My criticism is not to be trusted anymore, by me or anyone else. I think your writing is definately better than a lot of stuff out on the shelves these days, and the maddening thing is that the other stuff is out there, and some publisher paid to do it. WTF. When I met with some head honchos at a CAPA (Connecticut Authors and Publishers Assoc.) convention, they were the most arrogant bunch of deceitful suits I've ever met, and it killed me. The business end of this kills me. Okay . . . too much rambling. You hit a nerve there, and rightly so. Some day maybe I'll grow some and take them on. For now, writing and reading the chosen few will do. Great post, brother. My hat is off to you, and your incredible efforts.
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I loved "The Road," it actually kept a huge lump in my throat nearly the whole way through it. I appreciate your feedback on The Plunge. I did write a bit detailed in this novel, more so than usual. That you notice it makes me think I might need to go back and re-work some of the scenes. Keep reading and see if it makes the reading cumbersome or slows it down. I'm up for any negative feedback you might have.
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